Second Chance
by cruelangel101
Summary: Anne Stafford was a modern day English woman, but a freak accident sends her back in time, into the body of her past, Anne Boleyn.  How does this effect history?  Politics, danger, court life, manipulations, love...Detailed summary inside


**Title: **Second Chance

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters (uh maybe the ones that I make up), not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Anne Stafford is a twenty-five year old successful English business woman. She was on the rise to the top; however, a freak accident sends her back into the past, the Tudor era, where she finds herself in the body of a twenty year old Anne Boleyn who was in the middle of her courtship with King Henry VIII. What is a modern girl to do in a world where men's words were law and women could do little but obey their fathers and husbands? Court, manipulations, danger, politics and the occasional humor await her. Can she fight against time itself and forever change history or would she be resigned to her fate the second time around? Hm…time travel fics are not new again, but I don't think anyone has done a fic where Anne traveled back to the past to be herself.

**Pairings:** Anne/Henry VIII

**AN:** I know, what am I doing starting a new fic? But the idea popped into my head and I can't get rid of it. So I had to write it down. Other two fics should be updated in a few days or less. Let me know what you think!

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_**Prologue: The Accident**_

_Some say that we are reborn after death, starting anew, but what if the past injustices have made such an impression on one's soul, that even rebirth could not erase the history. _

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 2011, Oxford University, England**_

"Henry the Eighth of England became infamous in history for his six wives. Each of these wives has also left their marks. Katherine of Aragon was a princess twice over from Spain. She was originally the wife of King Henry's brother, the Prince of Wales, Arthur. But Arthur died early in their marriage. The young Duke of York was besotted with his sister-in-law and despite oppositions from his advisors he married her. Historians generally agree that the couple had been happy in the first years of their marriage.

"You will have remembered from our last lecture that one of the reasons for the war of the Roses that nearly torn England apart had been due to problems with the succession. Henry VIII became obsessed with having a son. After years of marriage with only a daughter to succeed him, he became impatient. Anne Boleyn was the daughter of his ambassador to France, and the character of much speculation in our culture today. How many of you have seen the Other Boleyn girl?" Half of the class raised their hand, the man continued, "But do not confuse fiction with history, Ladies and Gentleman," he laughed, "I guarantee that you will not pass this class if you base your facts on that movie.

"Mary Boleyn was an acknowledge mistress of the King, a fact that will become important later on. Anne Boleyn and her sister grew up in France, and thus were educated by the Renaissance French court. Anne was one of the most well educated women of her time. She was not a conventional beauty by the standards of the time. Most of the accounts of her appearance had been from the poetry that she inspired. And indeed she was at the center of attention at court, and drew men to her like moth to flame.

"She was intelligent and perhaps, often described as a woman before her time. She knew that the King often became bored with his mistresses as had been the case with Mary Boleyn, and so she chose another tactic. She denied him. For a King who always got what he wanted, he became obsessed with her rejection and was determined to marry her. One thing stood in his way, his wife, Katherine of Aragon. He needed to set her aside, but her nephew had just sacked Rome, as I am sure you still remember from a few lectures back, and the Pope would not grant him an annulment. Thus the King broke from the Church and created his own, becoming the head and as you will notice, the most powerful man in England.

"He then declared that his marriage to Katherine of Aragon to be invalid based on the fact that she had been his brother's wife, even though Queen Katherine had sworn an oath before their marriage that the marriage between her and Prince Arthur was never consummated. The Queen was then pushed aside and banished from court where she would live out the rest of her live in harsh conditions until she died shortly after. Her cause of death had been of some controversy at the time. It was stated that her heart had turned black and many at the time believed that to be cause of poison. Recent research would show that it was much more likely that she died of Cancer. Nevertheless, these rumors of poison would make it into the ears of her daughter, Mary Tudor, and arguably shape the woman she would become, bloody Mary.

"But I digress. Henry VIII married Anne Boleyn after she became pregnant, and crowned her Queen. On September 7th of 1533, the new Queen Anne gave birth to a girl, Elizabeth, and later Queen Elizabeth I. Despite what we now know about Elizabeth's long and successful reign, her birth had been a disappointment to her father who expected a girl. The Queen then suffered two miscarriages between 1534 and 1536, making the superstitious King believe that his marriage to Queen Anne was cursed like that with Katherine of Aragon. He started to make plans to get rid of her. This time there was no opposition to his plan. Katherine of Aragon was a princess twice over of Spain and beloved by the people of England, while Anne Boleyn was only a subject's daughter and hated by the people for Queen Katherine's fate. Anne Boleyn was arrested in April of 1536 on charges of adultery and incest with her brother, found guilty and executed. Please note that contemporary evidence has suggested and historians are in agreement that the charges were false and triumphed up by her enemy, Cromwell, a brilliant politician and the subject of a future lecture. The King had also declared his marriage to Anne Boleyn invalid, due to his relations with her sister, making their daughter a bastard.

"Now with both wives dead, the King became free to marry who he liked and he chose a woman named Jane Seymour. It can be said that Queen Jane was perhaps the lowest born of all of his wives and certainly the least educated. But it must have been appealing to the King at the time for she was so different from his past two wives. It would be Jane Seymour that would finally give birth to a Prince who would become the future King Edward VI. Her triumph was short lived as she died from an infection after childbirth shortly.

"Henry VIII's fourth wife was the sister of the Duke of Cleves. It was a marriage of politics set up for by Cromwell…"

The man's lecture was cut off as a sudden loud "Rah-Rah-ah-ah-ah-ah. Roma-roma-mamaa. Ga-ga-ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance," filled the air. The sound jolted the class and the students broke out in laughter at the sudden interruption, causing the petit blond girl sitting in the middle of the lecture hall to scramble frantically and embarrassedly for her cell phone in an effort to shut it off.

The Professor took the moment to look at the clock, "I see that I have already gone over the time for the class, so we will continue the topic next week. Have a good weekend everyone, and don't forget I will give extra-credit for those who attend the museum ceremony tonight. It will be a historical moment."

Noise quickly filled the classroom as the class arranged their backpacks and left the room in a hurry to start their weekends. In no time the only ones left in the room was the mid fifties professor and a young woman with dark hair. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, well dressed in a white blouse, black jacket and a pencil skirt, and a pair of black high heels. Her hair was dark, almost black, but her skin was rather pale, giving her a rather exotic appeal. The most enchanting part of her would be no doubt her eyes, a dark shade of blue that was like dark hooks for the soul, according to her mother.

She watched silently as the Professor packed up his things and as he finished, she approached him with a smile, "Did you like the lecture?" he asked her.

She shook her head, "I have already heard the story a billion times already, Dad. It used to be my bed time story, don't you remember?"

"Ah yes, that particular history period was always a fascination to me," her father responded. It was no surprise seeing he was a history professor at Oxford who specialized in the Tudor era. "Is it because of the ending again? You never liked the ending that his wives got."

She shrugged, "I don't particularly care for Jane Seymour."

Her father laughed, "Of course, your unexplainable dislike for his third wife. How could I forget? You know she was just a woman of circumstance as well." They began to walk out of the room, "How is work? Did that video conference go well?"

She nodded her head, "Work has been great. There are rumors around the office that I'm in line to be promoted to manager. It's a great opportunity especially for someone of my age."

The Professor nodded, they got into her little black car, "Do you have your dress ready for tonight?"

She nodded as she turned the keys in the ignition, "Yes, I got your suit from the dry cleaners as well. They're in the back. I thought we would pick up mum first and go to the little bakery she likes for dinner before we head over to the museum."

Her father smiled, "Alright, but we must hurry, I don't wish to be late and it is a bit of a drive. John's going to become famous after tonight."

She laughed, "Is she really that important?"

He laughed with her, "If I recall correctly, she was your favorite wife, and she is known as a hero of the protestant reformation today. Given that no real portrait of her has been discovered until now, I would safely say that this is definitely the event of the year."

"I don't think she was my favorite wife, after all, who is stupid enough to marry that man. It's…it's just that I always felt a connection to her," she told her father as they drove out of campus, "There are speculations that other portraits have been her."

"Yes, but John has found concluding evidence that this is her, and others have agreed. The museum has even bought the piece for a hefty sum," he explained.

"Well, tonight should be an interesting night. We will all finally get to see what one of the most famous and influential woman in history actually looked like."

* * *

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 2011, National Gallery, England**_

"Thomas," a man around the same age as the professor greeted the trio happily, "I am so please that you could make it."

Thomas, the Professor smiled widely as the two men embraced each other, "I wouldn't miss this for the world, Edward. John has been so secretive about this painting, even an old friend such as myself have not seen it."

Edward laughed, "Yes, I must admit that I have not seen it either, but we wouldn't want to ruin the surprise though would we?" he turned to the elder woman beside Thomas, "Elizabeth, you look beautiful as always."

Elizabeth smiled, "Thank you, Edward," she pushed her daughter forward slight; "You haven't seen Anne in a couple of years. She only recently returned for a few days. She has been working over the pond recently, on Wall street."

Edward turned to the younger woman with a smile, "Annie Stafford? Is that really you? My you have gotten so tall, I still think of you as that little girl who insisted on climbing trees."

Anne smiled, "Uncle Edward," she said warmly as the two embraced.

It was at this moment that the lights in the room dimmed and one focus light lit in front of a closed red curtain, a man standing in the spotlight with a giant grin, he tapped the microphone in his hands twice with his index finger, and after hearing a satisfying amplified noise, he began, "Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the National Gallery. For those who do not know, my name is John Stewart," he paused briefly, "Today we are gathered here to celebrate an exciting moment in history, to reveal finally the face that changed a kingdom. Queen Anne Boleyn was the second wife of Henry VIII, and the mother of Queen Elizabeth I. She was the woman that was the cause for the creation of the Church of England. We knew very little of her looks other than a few notes here and there. Many paintings in the past have been speculated to be her, but today, there is no more speculation. Today, the portrait that I am about to reveal to you, is the real her, found in a hidden collection that escaped the King's rage after her death. So without further ado, I gave you, the Queen Anne." He stepped to the side as the curtains fell aside and a painting about 4 feet tall and 2 and 1/2 wide was shown into the spot light.

It was of a woman dressed certainly like a Queen, a thick and finely made dark blue gown. A large sapphire necklace rested gently on her slender neck and pale shoulders. She had a grand head dress that resembled a crown upon her head. Her hair looked soft. It was long and almost black. Her eyes…she had beautiful eyes, a shade of dark blue that had a certain intensity to them. It was a stunning portrait and the Queen had been a beauty, perhaps not a conventional beauty of her days, but certainly a stunner now. Anne couldn't take her eyes away from it; she could not believe her eyes.

_I beg your Majesty to sit still, the portrait is almost finished. I dare say the King shall be very pleased with the piece._

A male voice had said those words, almost like an echo in her ears or was it her mind?

Three gasp from around her jotted her out of thoughts, "She looks…she looks…" it was her mother, she never finished her sentence.

"Identical, Dear God," that was her father.

'Uncle' Edward just moved his head between Anne and the portrait, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to say a word.

It didn't take long before the rest of people around her started to notice her, turning to see her with their eyes wide open. Some pointing and whispers broke out quickly as every single pair of eyes found its way to Anne Stafford.

Anne felt slightly paralyzed before panic started to set in. She didn't really understand why she felt panic but suddenly she felt the room become unbearably hot, and fear settle in. She didn't even know why she felt afraid suddenly, all she knew was that she had to get out of the room. So she picked up her blue silk skirt and ran, not pausing for a glance back, ignoring her parents' call for her. She felt like she was running for her life, but there was no swordsman chasing her. In fact why would a swordsman chase her at all?

The next few moments felt rather like a trance to Anne. She remembered making it to her car, and got inside. She remembered finding her keys and putting them in the ignition before she sped away. She passed several streets with no thoughts what so ever, and suddenly the streets disappeared from her view, a crowd of strangely dressed people filled her vision.

She heard her own voice in her mind this time.

_Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul_.

Her heart rate increased, she meant for the brakes but she stepped on the gas. The next things she knew the car had jerked forward and them backwards harshly. Her head hit something, and she heard glass break before the world went black.

The next conscious moment Anne had was a feeling of immense pain. She was laying on her back now. There were lights all around her, a blur almost. "Her BP's dropping rapidly. She might have internal bleeding. Is the line patent?" It was a male voice.

"Yes, 1000 cc IV Bolus, I'm squeezing the bag as much as I can right now," this was a female voice.

Anne felt rather cold, and the voices around her began to sound more like a dull noise. The last thing she thought she heard was, "Shit, she's crashing, get me the paddles."

Then there was jolt and the world became black again.

* * *

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 1530, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Anne? Anne, sweetheart, please open your eyes," it was a familiar male voice, but Anne had no idea where she had heard it before.

She did crack her eyes open though. Her head felt like it was going to explode from the pain. Her vision started out very blurred but eventually it focused. She was lying in bed, with what appeared to be a very ugly and grandmother like nightgown. The room had very strange decorations, like a place in those movies or textbooks, ornate and rich, very 16th century looking.

There was a man sitting beside her, a look of frantic concern on his face. Anne noticed that he clasped her hand in his hands tightly as if afraid that if he let go she would float away. "Anne?" he asked tentatively.

"What happened?" Anne found herself asking. Her voice was hoarse and dry.

"You don't remember?" there was that worry again.

She shook her head slightly but stopped immediately, her face scrunched in pain. The man gentle stroked her hair in a comforting manner, "Sweetheart you fell off the balcony and hit your head. You have been unconscious for two days now, gave us quite the scare."

"Balcony?"

"You don't remember anything at all?" he asked.

Anne's brows furrowed in confusion. What was the last thing she remembered? Weren't the medics working on her? She had crashed her car that was it. She was fairly sure she never fell off a balcony.

She turned her attention to the man. He was a very good looking man, dressed in very strange cloths, again rather 16th century in tastes. Maybe he was an actor and didn't have time to change cloths yet? That did not sound legit…she could hardly think straight, "Who are you?"

The small smile that had started to form on his face instantly fell, "You don't remember me?" There was hurt in his voice.

"No, you look very familiar though," she concluded, trying to search her memories of where she had seen him but couldn't remember.

His frown deepened, "I am Henry, your love, the King of England, your future husband."

_Henry please…Henry please…for the love you bare our child…for the love you bare Elizabeth…have mercy._

_You lied to me. You have always lied to me._

_No_

_You were not a virgin when you married me. You were not what you seemed. Your father and your brother arranged everything._

_No, I loved you. I loved you, and I love you still. Please after everything we have been to each other, after everything we were, please…One more chance…one more…Henry…Your Majesty…your Majesty I beseech you._

"And who am I?" she blinked, the echo of voices still in her thoughts. She was starting to think that she was schizophrenic. Didn't she read somewhere that initial onset of schizophrenia was around her age?

"Anne, Anne Boleyn." Suddenly Anne felt very cold; her hands flew to her neck automatically. The first thought that came to her mind was, _oh bloody hell._

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**Author's Notes:**

Not to worry for my other readers, Nemesis and Redemption chapters are both half way there, so update time is soon for them. This story just would not leave me head, and I had to write it down to clear my mind.

For Everyone…_**Please review**_ and let me know what you think. Good idea to go flow with? Am I officially off my rockers for trying this? Like it?

I am intrigued by the idea of the time where Henry's first three wives all lived. I dislike Jane, but I don't think she is evil. I have respect for Katherine and like her well enough, but for some reason I am just a huge Anne/Henry fan. I can pretty much say, we are going to have some changes to the dynamic of certain relationships though. I like to write stories where there is hardly a clear villain. And as always, chapter length increase after prologue.

Until Next Time,

Cruelangel


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